I should be registering.

I actually can't register until tomorrow morning at 11 AM. But I should be planning my summer/fall classes so I'm ready for tomorrow. Instead, I'm blogging. What's life without whimsy?

I feel like I've always been the person you hit up for advice when you need it. Actually, I know I have been that person haha. I'm a very empathetic person, and even if I've never been in a specific situation, I usually know what should be done. Throughout the years, I've realized that listening and saying nothing is sometimes just as, if not more, effective than trying to come up with a monologue on how everything will be okay and perfect again. This is mainly because a lot of the time, it won't be perfect (or at least the same) again. But that's okay. As a species, we like regularity in our schedules (no laxative jokes please) and we hate change. We all need to realize that change is often a wonderful thing, and although it's not comfortable at first, it's necessary. BUT I DIGRESS. I was talking to one of my friends the other day and she said "Ryan, just do what makes you happy." It is such a simple piece of advice that seems like it should be so blatantly obvious to me, but I realized something. More often than not, when we are in a tough situation we look for this mystic, complex answer that is buried beneath layers and layers of self reflection, and the real answer is so simple and easy that it seems like it will definitely be ineffective. I just recommend doing what makes you happy. Obviously, you can't do everything that makes you happy. If your happiness stems from an excessive use of hookers and cocaine, I think you need to take up a more therapeutic hobby, such as gardening. But if you have a situation in your life that seems complicated and you feel you need to seek out the wisdom of every Mohammed, Jesus, and Ghandi you know, you really don't. Just think about what decision will make you happy, and even if it still entails some difficulties, it will be worth it. You just do what you want to do and if others don't understand it, that's okay. If you understand your reasoning and are happy with yourself and your choice, then the best person to go to for advice is you.

Sometimes I talk to myself.

I was halfway done with a blog criticizing the life choices of a girl on Teen Mom 2 and the death of the Britney Spears' talent when I realized it wasn't funny and I deleted it. I'm not Perez Hilton, I can't put humor on the Internet for the 4 people that read this blog if it isn't high quality. Therefore, I'll just give a little life update. It probably won't be humorous, and I'm not sorry.

I have some semi-large decisions coming up. Do I want to stay in Boston this summer? Do I want to go home and work? Do I want to take classes this summer? Do I want to double major or just focus on business? I remember when I thought picking my college was such a huge decision. That was cute. Anyway, I have exactly 2 weeks to decide my life path. I'm doubling in Film Scoring and Music Business/Management. I've lost my interest in film scoring for the time being. I'm much more interested in the business aspect of the industry rather than the creative aspect at this point. I don't like writing music under pressure, so why would I make it my career? Your answer is you shouldn't. My answer is that the last piece I wrote under pressure was regarded as trash by my professor and then went on to be the audience favorite and get me some notoriety because it was actually wonderful. Also, I would hate to give up the connections I have built with a few film/tv producers (aspiring and established) around the country.

I had more to say, but I think I just talked myself out of dropping film scoring. Thanks for reading that last paragraph that is entirely pointless to your lives.

Anyway, I will most definitely be staying in Boston this summer. I will be taking classes. I will be gallivanting to New York whenever I can. And I will be enjoying myself.

My very best friend will be coming up in May with her mom (essentially my mom) and they will be staying for a week! I'm taking them to New York for a show, a studio tour, and to undoubtedly get lost. The rest of the time will be spent in Boston showing them what I see every day. Last time she came up, it was mid-December and this was what ensued.

I had a picture of her buried ass-deep in a pile of snow while I pointed and laughed, but I couldn't find it. Take a look at her blog. She's not as funny as me, but she tries.

CLICK HERE.

I have a concert April 22nd here at Berklee. So if you are interested in French Impressionistic/Contemporary Chamber Music and want to spend your time listening to ~55 minutes of it, feel free to come. On that note, I haven't practiced some of the music in roughly 4 days. So maybe you should stay home.

Probably the most serious part of this blog was my shower experience today. I know, I know. Now you're picturing me in the shower and it will be hard to focus, but I need you to do so. I'm standing there, minding my own business, washing my hair and then my nose starts bleeding. Profusely. It continues to do so for 15 minutes. So I wait it out, ponder the implications, and when it stops I get out and text my friend Jordan, telling him I’m convinced I have a brain hemmhorage and I’ll be dead before next weekend. As I go to my desk to start on my will, he informs me that my nose is just dry and I’m not on my deathbed, I’m just being moderately overdramatic. This sounds like a reasonable diagnosis, and while I’m still not totally convinced that I don’t have bleeding in and around my brain, I’ll go with it. Thank God for people that paid attention during Biology in high school, and have common sense. I did/have neither. I’m still convinced I have a rare strain of swine flu incubating in my body because of a suspicious sneeze earlier today. More on that later.

On an end note, just a piece of advice. I’ve come to find that when you live alone, you tend to talk to yourself more than you would normally do so if you lived with other humans. I’ve also come to find out that it doesn’t stop when you go outside, and if you do it on the sidewalk, people will look at you and then rush inside where it’s safe. Need to work on that.

The saga continues.

I know most of you are probably tired of hearing about my job hunt. I'm also sick of talking about it. Kind of. But until it ends, IT'S CONSUMING MY LIFE. Therefore consuming my blog. The picture above is funny not only because that will most likely be me in a year, but because I was once actually chased by a "homeless" lady in a powerchair. She asked me for money, I said "Ma'am, you're in a powerchair and a fur coat. You're fine."




She didn't like that. So we played tag all the way down Mass. Ave. She almost won. Her new spot is right outside the Park St. T-station. If you see her, you'll know why I ran. She's the one with the trashbag hoodie. Can't miss her.


Anyway. I sometimes feel that Boston is playing a joke on me. It's supposed to be one of, if not the biggest city for college students. There are something like 400,000 students in the greater Boston area?? WHY ARE YOUR STANDARDS FOR RETAIL SO HIGH?? I can handle your federal government's confidential nuclear records, but I can't work for you unless I've personally worked for Tory Burch? YOU'RE THE GAP. I THINK I CAN HANDLE IT.

My favorite scenario is one that happened recently. A store that will remain unnamed (they have a parade on a major holiday involving turkey THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING) brought me in for an interview. It went extremely well (just like the last one that I happened to not receive) so my hopes were low. The HR lady says "Well everything looks good! Can you tell me your availability?" At this point it's all I can do to keep myself from drooling with excitement. Did I succeed? Almost. So, I give her my days and she proceeds to say "Perfect! Well, we don't have any open positions right now, but if one comes up, we will keep you in mind!"









I hope the subway door shut on your face during your commute home.






That being said, I have an interview for an HR internship at a Fortune 500 company on Thursday. Will I survive if I don't get it? Yes. Will my wardrobe? No. RIP Summer Collection 2011. You could have been good to me.

                                          (Minus the bag. Not even I can pull that off in real life.)

Talent

Going to a music school, I sometimes wish that I could be a songwriter. I have no problem writing the music, but I'm just not very good with words. I try to come up with deep, profound lyrics that always somehow end up rhyming in a very Dr. Seuss way. I had given up on my songwriting dream long ago and accepted that I will just end up being the CEO of some multi-billion dollar music entertainment company. I'm okay with it, not everyone's life turns out the way that they want it to. Anyway, during the past week, an angel came down in the form of Rebecca Black and informed me that literally anyone can be a songwriter, and write about anything they want to. You just have to make sure you include the title of the song in your chorus and repeat it 75 times per chorus. A couple of weeks ago on Glee, Rachel wrote an entire song entitled "My Headband." I won't deny the fact that if that song had made it onto iTunes, I would have most likely purchased it. These two women have made me realize that I can pursue my dream of songwriting no matter how talentless I am with lyrics, and I just want to give a little shout out to them for that. Thanks ladies!

Little spring break blories.

I have an interview at GAP tomorrow circa 2PM. I am so obsessive about everything in my life, so today I looked up interview questions that people have gotten in the past. After that I planned out my outfit, and now I'm good to go. Need to remember to print a resume. That could be useful. ANYWAY, one of the more frequent questions was "Sell me the outfit you're wearing right now." That's going to be a tough one for me. All I can think of to say is "Well sir/maam, the outfit I'm currently wearing consists entirely of clothing from Express, but if you really want me to sell that, I'll try." I feel that honesty is key. When I said "Well, you smell like canned fart." to the last interviewer that said I seemed impatient, I really think it set me apart as a frontrunner for the position.

My parents came in town this weekend and stayed until Tuesday. It was probably the best time we've had since they've been coming to Boston. I took them the farthest I could possibly think to take them (Bunker Hill) and they really loved it. I would have loved it had they not noticed me walking off trying to leave them there, but hey. You win some, you lose some. They bought this month's groceries, so I can't complain.

On Saturday, I'm going to head down to NYC with a friend for the day. I figure it is a great way to end spring break, and it will be nice to get away and be forced to brave the smell of urine in the subway of a different city.

Motivation

Today I came across what are possibly the best two quotes I have ever (and will ever) read.


"However long the night, the dawn will break."
"May the bridges I burn light the way."



I had a somewhat...eventful weekend. There was so much that happened in such a short span of time (I made a mistake of monumental proportions) and it was almost too much to process. Last night I went to sleep at 11 (which never happens) and I just felt so hopeless. I sometimes just get in these moods where I get so angry and upset with myself and others because of some struggles I am having, and last night was just one of those nights. I woke up feeling no better, went to class to take my midterm, didn't talk to anyone, took the test, and came back home to go back to bed. Needless to say, being antisocial will not, in fact, make you feel better. I somehow came across the two quotes above, and in an instant, my day was turned around and I snapped out of it. It made me realize that even when we feel hopeless, when we feel like there is truly no coming out of something, there will always be an end to the negative emotions. I realized that sometimes, in order to make the right decisions, we have to make the right mistakes. I may regret how some things have turned out, but they are just learning opportunities for the future. 

(Sometimes my thoughts in blogs are scattered, but I like it. I write things out in the order I think of them.)

Now call me a momma's boy. But when I am sad or I have something exciting happen or I can't decide what to make for dinner or I just had a great audition, my first instinct is to call my mom. If I'm upset about something, we usually talk for an hour, she tells me to pray about it and read my bible, and then we are done. I'll be honest, reading my bible rarely helps. I don't have enough patience to read, interpret, analyze, and internalize it when I'm in a bad mood. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Jesus, but I am stubborn when I'm mad and I want an insta-fix. For some reason, these quotes just hit the spot for me, and I hope you can think of them whenever you are feeling down and realize that, while the end may not necessarily be near, and you may be down for a day, or a month, or longer, there is an end, and there is no better opportunity to learn than from a mistake. I have also learned that if you are going to make a mistake, make it big. Make it HUGE so you won't forget. And have a good ass time making it.


On an ending note, it's now almost 3 AM. I have several midterms tomorrow, which I have been studying for all night. I can tell you all you need to know about copyright law, all of the chord tensions in Clair de Lune, and the 13 deceptive resolutions of a V7 chord. But like it said. It's almost 3 AM.


Good night! (or good morning, depending on your time zone.)

Tales of a jobless college student.

All your life, people tell you to graduate high school so you can go to college, then after college you can go to graduate school, which will eventually enable you to get a job that stresses you to the point of ulcers and, if you're lucky, a strained marriage. Well, me being the smart person that I am, decided that this was definitely the right path to travel. So, after graduating high school, going to one college, leaving that college to work to go to another college, then leaving that job to go to the aforementioned college, HERE I AM. And it has been quite a trip so far. Let me tell you. But there have been a few bumps in the road.

The funny thing about life - it costs money. Who knew that the board game 'LIFE' that we all played as kids was more than just a game - it was kind of an instruction manual. Now I wish I had paid more attention to the rules instead of just playing with the spinner the whole time. After a fairly lavish first semester, my funds have taken a hit and I'm starting to feel the crunch of life and it's expenses. Like rent, utilities, and my moderate/severe addiction to cardigans and brightly colored shirts. So, the day I got back to Boston from Christmas "break" (during which I worked every day) I started looking for a job. Literally. The same day. Now before we go further, I feel the need to point out that I'm not a starving college student living off bread and water without a penny to my name. I am pretty well taken care of. Until circa...May. By then, I will either have a job, or go home to once again replenish my funding for necessary expenses, such as rent/groceries/outerwear from Calvin Klein. My parents and I disagree on whether or not that last one is a necessary expense, but they will come around when they see the spring catalog. ANYWAY. So I get back to Boston and I am just so excited. I am ready to take on the world. I update my resume, write a bad ass cover letter for every occasion, and I hit the streets, job sites, anything I can find. Well let me tell you something. I once heard that the recession was over and the economy is turning around. Well I'd like to see Obama fly his ass up here and try to find a job in the areas in and around greater Boston, because THAT IS NOT THE CASE.

Let me give a little background information before we continue. In high school I was a cashier at a local business for 2 years. Between colleges I worked at a nuclear waste storage facility as the lead records coordinator, validating documents, writing various procedures, training a few new employees, and, most importantly, catching up on American Idol every week. It honestly wasn't the most difficult job, but it wasn't the easiest either. Also, this semester I SPECIFICALLY set up my classes to leave me time to work. No class after 11 on Mondays and Tuesdays, no class on Fridays. So, naturally, when I start looking for jobs in Boston, I'm pretty confident I have all of my bases covered. WRONG. WRONG WRONG WRONG. So listen. I could be wrong. But I find it a little odd that I can be trusted to handle various classified records containing information that, if given to the wrong person in the wrong manner, I can go to jail. BUT I CAN'T SELL A PAIR OF PANTS AT H&M? Am I missing something? Like, hi, my name is Ryan and I can memorize 6 different federal procedures for the US Department of Energy, BUT I CAN'T BE TRUSTED TO MAKE YOUR FREAKING MACCHIATO. I had one interview for an assistant position at a tax firm in Newton that I got turned down for because "by looking at the application, I can tell you're an impatient person." Really? Really? Um, that application was flawless, as is everything else that I do. Also, you bear a striking resemblance to a toad and you smell like feta cheese, but thank you for your time.

Today I had a phone interview with Bank of America. Well, I was supposed to. I was super excited because usually I don't make it past the point of the rejection letter. Actually, at this point, instead of applying for the job, I'm applying to see how many variations I can get on a rejection letter. ANYWAY, I passed their requirements and their little cash handling/data management test, and had a phone interview today. The hours were PERFECT with my schedule, I was qualified, blah blah blah. I get the interview call today (it was a phone interview) and the lady says "well....that position has been filled. Let me look for another one for you." Needless to say, of course there were no other ones that fit my schedule but "she will let me know if anything opens up."

Oh please.

If you know me well, you know I am a comfort eater. So, naturally, after today's phone call, I went to the store and stocked up on things that will hopefully land me an appearance on the new reality show "Heavy," which I am unhealthily obsessed with (no pun intended.) I had my eye on some ice cream sandwiches in particular, along with the spinach pizza and spring rolls that I bought in massive quantities. I get home, eager with excitement, take out the box of ice cream sandwiches, only to get that sinking feeling in your stomach that you get from a roller coaster or when you fart and someone notices. Now I shop at Trader Joe's, which is (supposedly) all organic, and now I know to look before I leap. I bought ice cream sandwiches SANS real milk therefore SANS real ice cream, MADE FROM FREAKING TOFU. I BOUGHT TOFUTTI ICE CREAM. So I ate 2 of them, cried, ate 2 more, and then may or may not have eaten 10 spring rolls. Now that I'm thinking about it, after I publish this I'll be having some Cocoa Puffs. But back on topic. Tofu ice cream is not the way to perk up your day.

Now I am all for negative comic relief, but I feel I should turn the tables and end on a happier note. I really am not in as bad of a position as I make it out to be (I like to exaggerate.) I just think it's humorous. I go to a FANTASTIC school, I am making great friends, I have been able to keep in touch with all of my friends from home (and get rid of the bad ones, thank you Jesus.) I have learned so much. I'm truly grateful for all of the opportunity that surrounds me and I know there's a reason for whatever has happened and will happen. I'm just going to keep on, and tomorrow I will probably apply to H&M for a 6th time and will probably be rejected for the 6th time. But that's okay. I'll find something.


End note - Buy Adele's new album "21." My friends and I are covering 3 of her new songs. They are all wonderful. So refreshing to have someone to listen to who sounds good live and isn't relying on her naughty parts to get her somewhere.

Candy Corn, Frenemies, and Morons - A Halloween Tale 2010

Halloween. It's supposed to be a fun time for everyone - kids consume a disgusting amount of candy, which causes temporary joy and permanent nausea and dental diseases, and adults consume a disgusting amount of alcohol, which can cause a lifetime of guilt, regret, and often herpes. What's not to love? Well me being me, Halloween and I have somewhat of a love/hate relationship. I want to love it so bad, but it usually hates me. I just have bad luck with it. 4 years ago I was sick and stayed home. 3 years ago I had an away football game. 2 years ago I had plans fall through that I may or may not have driven 3 hours away for, and this year I am still socially inept and had no real options but to spend it with my 4 girls - Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia. They are the greatest; truly golden. I also decided to go out and buy an obnoxious amount of candy corn, which was consumed in it's entirety. And I'm not sorry for that. I truly look forward to next Halloween and what it has to offer. Maybe I'll get crazy and go see a movie. Who knows what I'm capable of?

In all seriousness, being alone has given me some time to reflect on life. And those who know me well know that when I reflect on life, I reflect on how horrible people are doing at running theirs and how it would be so much better if they would let me do it for them. So naturally, I came up with a few topics, one of which is "FRENEMIES."

 
The trend of having a frenemy has become increasingly common; it seems like more women have a circle of frenemies than a circle of friends. What is a frenemy, you may ask? Wikipedia (naturally my first resource) defines it very clearly.


"Frenemy" (alternately spelled "frienemy") is a portmanteau of "friend" and "enemy" which can refer to either an enemy disguised as a friend or to a partner who is simultaneously a competitor and rival.

They go into a lot of detail, whereas I feel that the term is just another word for 'bitch.' Ladies, why do you need the frenemy? You just make yourself look like a dumbass. You can say you are "best friends" all you want to, but when you fight every other weekend and always talk about it to everyone but each other, are you really friends? I feel that you all need to reevaluate your priorities and friendships and get rid of your frenemies. It will improve your life, and it will greatly improve mine because I will no longer have to listen to your bitching and I can focus on more important things. Like Glee. Or my $40 dry cleaning bill.

On another note, I feel that I should also bring something else to our attention. Whenever you change cities, schools, jobs, or sexual orientations, you will no doubt gain a different circle of friends. Actually, not always (look at me) but most likely. Anyway, when you're sharing all of the details of your new and extravagant life, there are a few things that must be remembered. When you're going to a school like I did back home, everyone knows who everyone else is; so, whenever you are talking about someone, there's no need to say "my friend Bob" or "my professor Gladys." Well when you are going to school 2000 miles away from each other, IT IS IMPERATIVE TO GIVE THESE PEOPLE TITLES. If you go off rambling saying "Well then I went with Linda to the movies and then we met up with Jim and well, you know how that went ;) and then we went and hung with the group at IHOP." There are just so many things wrong with this sentence.

#1. If you say it like that, I assume that I should already know who these people are, and if I don't, I think I've gone crazy. This can result in high stress, anxiety, and antidepressant bills. Say "my friend Linda" or "my buddy Jim." It just helps me out so much more.

#2.  I'm gonna need explicit detail. I've never seen these people and I am never around you, so please give me an insight to your life.

#3. Actually, disregard rule #2. By this point I'm already so annoyed that I don't give a shit about your life and just want to stop talking to you altogether.

See! By following one simple rule, you can avoid all of the conflicted emotions that your dumb ass caused me in the first place.

 

Life in Boston = No life.

pa·thet·ic /pəˈθɛtɪk/ Show Spelled[puh-thet-ik]

–adjective

1.

causing or evoking pity, sympathetic sadness, sorrow, etc.; pitiful; pitiable: a pathetic letter; a pathetic sight.

2.

miserably or contemptibly inadequate

So I'm finally in Boston. I've been here for a month, and I had a little higher expectations for it, I'm not gonna lie. I fully expected to be getting mildly tipsy at 10:35 PM on Thursday nights with a new group of good looking, humorous friends. Instead, I'm in polar bear print pajama pants, sitting here listening to a Glee song and blogging. If I start to feel crazy on the weekends, I may go to a movie alone or venture down the street and get a *venti* latte from Starbucks instead of a grande. I know, I know...I'm bold. I feel like this was what the ancient Greeks were talking about when they were defining the word "tragedy." I've never been amazing at making friends fast (it's been a lifelong process for the 2-4 that I have) but I FULLY EXPECTED TO HAVE SOMEONE BESIDES MYSELF TO TALK TO BY NOW. I sometimes go days without hearing my own voice, which I feel is not normal. I refuse to come home at Christmas and be the friend who went away to the best college and came back with no friends. And if that happens, I may take various and sundry pics around Boston and photoshop random Berklee people into the pictures. You call it creepy, I call it clever. Tomato to-mah-to. I've applied for jobs, been to different churches, tried striking up the random conversation with the person sitting next to me in class, and I've even stooped to the point of adding people that I may or may not have talked to but seen on the street. May or may not. My friends ask me if I've met any cool people, and when I say no, they say "Well go talk to people! Go make friends!" Oh ok. What a great idea. Why haven't I thought of that? LET ME GO STAND AT THE BUS STOP IN THE CONGREGATION OF HOMELESS PEOPLE WITH MY "WILL WORK FOR FRIENDS" SIGN.

The Berklee brochure should have prepared me for this.

Now aside from the whole social life fiasco, Berklee is actually BAD ASS. I feel like I have already grown so much as a musician and especially as an instrumentalist, and plan to stay here for the rest of my college years, which are hopefully socially fruitful.

On another subject, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING.

Over the years, I've been the go-to guy for advice, which I LOVE, because quite honestly, I give bad ass advice. How I know so much about everything, I'll never know. Some people are good looking, some people have numerous talents, and some people know everything. There aren't many of these people in our world, but luckily, I am one of them. And, lucky for you, you know me. Anyway, whether it is a boyfriend problem, a clothing problem, a parental problem, or which drink to get at Sonic (in my opinion, the biggest problem of our generation), they come to me. And I don't mind at all. WHAT KILLS ME IS WHEN YOU ASK AND THEN DON'T DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO. In our high school history classes, we learn not to repeat the mistakes of others so we can spare ourselves some trouble in our own lives. HELLO?!?!?! Learn from the mistakes of many others, which was not listening to me, and LISTEN TO ME. ESCUCHAME, if you aren't a native speaker of English. See, I even give advice in various languages. Anyway, I just feel that if you trust someone enough to ask their advice, then you need to trust their advice and trust that it will help your life out in a positive manner. What's even worse is when people act like they're going to take the advice, and then do the opposite. HELLO. I KNOW EVERYTHING. I WILL EVENTUALLY FIND OUT. AND DISOWN YOU. So at this point, I've decided to tell people to do the opposite of what I actually think they should do, and then they will actually do what should be done in the first place. If you're having trouble following, it's ok. I'm having trouble following myself.

I believe the above paragraph encompasses the major problem with today's world, and when it is rectified we will finally be at peace with each other. You're welcome, John Lennon; your dream of peace will finally be achieved when the dumbasses of the world (and my friend circle) decide to listen.

I just spent 30 minutes typing out a blog entitled "10 Things I Hate About....Everyone." It even had a cool picture of the movie poster "10 Things I Hate About You." But I just wasn't feeling it. Which is sad, because I have been planning it for months. But it was just super negative and I meannnn it's just not one of those moods. This blog might be anticlimactic and not funny at all, but ha...who am I? Is that even possible?

All my life, I've been called Little Ryan. I can't even count the number of people who have bestowed that nickname upon me. Even now, almost 20, people still call me. I'll say something semi-controversial at work and later I'll hear "Did little Ryan really say that?" And I mean that's ok. It differentiates me from other people. Other Ryans. But I've just always wondered why people call me that. It could be because I look like a 14 year old, or because I have always always ALWAYS, with the exception of the last year, spent the majority of my time with friends that were older than me. It's never bothered me, and it doesn't bother me now, but it just makes me wonder. Does almost everyone I come across think of me as the little brother figure?

I'm sitting here in my hotel room in Boston after two long days of apartment hunting. I tried to find one on the internet for months, but I just feel like if you are going to rent a 10x10 200 year old studio apartment for $1300 that is possibly going to need fumigation every month, you need to see it in person. I'm just kidding about fumigation. Possibly once a semester. Anyway, this was the last piece of the puzzle that makes up the next major step in my life. I have a school, an apartment, and a loan that's worth more than my life haaaaaallol. I sometimes wonder if I'm ready. I have always worked so hard, ever since high school, to make sure that people take me seriously. My senior year, I worked on our yearbook for at least 3 hours every day, sometimes more, just so my teacher would see that I was different from most of the others and I wasn't going to expect anyone to carry it through to the end. Working at WIPP has shown me that sometimes you really have to change different aspects of your personality at this age to show that you are to be taken seriously and you aren't just a pushover who will get anyone's coffee. I have worked every day to try to be as professional as I know how to be, and in some aspects I think it has paid off, but in others, I'm not sure it has. Is it worth changing some of the best parts of your personality, like the witty jokes, the absurd sense of humor, and even just the "fun" parts just to be taken as seriously as the men 7 levels above you?

I'm not going to lie, moving to Boston scares me. Being at TTU and in Carlsbad has given me some freedom, but I still have all of the positive aspects of my life. My family is close, it wasn't expensive, and I had my very best friend either a 5 minute walk away from my dorm or home almost every weekend. Now, I'll be the farthest away with no one around. And sometimes, that's ok with me. I can be alone and be fine, as long as I'm alone in my room or alone in a house, or at the river or something like that. But it's always been hard for me to be alone when I'm around a crowd of people. I've never been good at making friends when I don't have my other friends around. That worries me, but also excites me, because I know I will force myself to go out and talk to people. I've never really felt the need to do this before, because I've always had everyone I've needed.

Having to go out and fend for myself makes me wonder: am I ready? Will people take me seriously? In my head, I have been ready for a long time. But I wonder if I'll still be "little Ryan" or if I'll just be Ryan.

Picasso.

Let me paint you a picture. A picture of 5 adults driving to Roswell in a silver BMW coupe, with yours truly sitting in the middle back seat. Between two 6'3" behemoths. For 70 miles. I went with my good friend and his parents and cousin/uncle/nephew/some type of older homophobic racially inhibited male family member to Roswell for dinner and a movie. It was a good time. At one point, his dad (who was sitting on my right) asked his mom what was playing on her iPod, and she looked and said some song by someone named "Cleetus." He then said "Isn't that the name of a lady's intimate parts?" to which she responded "No, I don't think so." He says "I was never very good at anatomy" and she replies "I'm very aware."




Oh, what an eventful first 5 miles that was. It was my first parental verbal near-pornographic experience, and I don't think I will ever want to experience that again. After that conversation, the other guy, who's name is Van by the way, starts talking about his various assortment of shirts, one of which has a big "No Homos" on the front. He also swears he has no problem with "the Mexicans" but if you have to say it, you do have a problem! Really? You're named after a car. I could go on about that alone for days.

Easter weekend is coming up. Easter in my family has always been our holiday. Some people are big on Christmas, some 4th of July (hey Neal family!!), but for us, it's Easter. It's always an adventure. Last Easter my grandma got so mad at one of the cousins she hit him over the head with a pot full of chili hot off the stove. I can't wait to see how she tops this one! I'm sure she's been brainstorming.

Dead and Gone.

Some people are scared of death. I've always said that I'm not scared to die, I'm just scared of how I die. If I'm going to go in my sleep, then that's fine. If I'm going to go in a car crash during the driver's sleep, that's not ok. Death can be a sad subject, but today I found some humor in it. Today at work, I was eavesdropping on a conversation between two of my office buddies (which is what I spend most of my time doing), and I overheard one woman talking about her relatives. I'm always interested in the family drama of others, so I decided to listen closer. She said, "We already have places for Dad and Grandpa, and now we are just looking for one for Grandma. She's always been very picky." I thought to myself, wow, how sad. She has a full time job and she is trying to take care of 3 people, all of which will soon be in nursing homes. NO. NO MA'AM. THIS IS NOT THE CASE. "Dad," "Grandpa," and "Grandma" are dead. Dead and cremated. They are currently sitting on her mantle, and now Grandma is coming to join them. Who does that?! Why would you keep your dead ass relatives in your house? Does that not weird anyone else out? I'm all for cremation. It will save money on a casket and it'll save some space in the cemetary (unless it's currently blocking out your knick knacks above the fireplace). Part of me is grateful, because now I know they won't be spreading the ashes and I won't get a taste of Grandma's thigh in my mouth when I'm running at the beach, but also, part of me is now very, very scared. What if I ever have to go to her house? I can't carry on a conversation with essence of Grandma floating freely throughout the living room. I think TI had it right in his song "Dead and Gone." Once you're dead, you should be gone! We all remember what happened in the dinner scene of "Meet the Parents." Nothing good comes from dead people.

So you think you're good looking?

So my best friend had this idea for us to start blogs with some of our other friends, and I thought it was bad ass. Some of them didn't like it, but that's because our stories are more interesting. Some times. Augusta started calling me 'North' the other day because she said she got sick of seeing the name 'Ryan' in her inbox. Part of me thought it was a fun name, and then part of me wanted to say "I hate you for hating my name," but I decided to go with the first part of me. Hence the "North Pole."

 As everyone knows, I came back home this semester to work in an office 9.5 hours every single day to earn just enough money to go to Berklee and take out $200,000 in student loans. I feel it was a smart decision. My office isn't really like the offices you see in movies. It's not bustling, it's not very loud, people aren't dressed up in business suits and pencil skirts. It's almost always silent, people are usually cursing, and some people may or may not have worn the same jacket for approximately 75 days now. When I got there, I didn't wean them on my humor slow enough, and that may have been a bad decision, but oh well. There is a lady named Susan who makes cakes on everyone's birthday, and when she asked me what I want in mine (like filling), I told her. In hindsight, it may have been a bad idea to say "strippers", but it was the first thing that came to mind. I thought it was hilarious, but she kind of walked away and looked terrified. I still don't know why, but I kept those thoughts to myself from then on. Then there is Sonia. She reminds me alot of myself. When I first met her, I got the vibe that she wanted nothing to do with me unless it involved my total destruction (which might be why she reminds me of myself), but now, we are best friends. We talk about American Idol every Wednesday and Thursday, and when I told her today that Sandra Bullock and Jesse James were splitting up, we had a moment of silence in her honor.
One thing that gets me, though, is that everyone there thinks my OCD tendencies are soooo funny. Yes, I color coordinate my folders. Yes, I give you red and black if I hate you because those are the colors of Satan, and yes, I gave everyone green folders on St. Patricks Day because I have holiday spirit. I may spend 30-45 minutes rearranging the tiles on our sign out board so that they are all together, or picking up all the spare shreds of paper off the carpet, but is that really a crime?

I kind of want to dedicate a little part of every blog to a random subject that I have strong feelings about, because Chelsea Handler has an article like that and I'm not ashamed to admit I idolize her, although you might be ashamed to be my friend after finding that out!! Today, I want to talk about fat people who think they're skinny.
Now, I don't discriminate against fat people. OVERWEIGHT people, excuse me. They don't bother me at all. What bothers me is when they let their fat hang over their pants and out of their shirt like we want to look at it. I have a problem with that. I'd have a problem if a skinny person let their shirt come up and show their happy trail. I don't want to see anything on your body that is remotely disgusting. One instance that comes to mind is an incident I had at a restaurant called Happy's one day. Well let me tell you, Happy's now makes me very, very sad. I went in, innocently ordered my hamburger and milkshake, and sat down. As I started to take a bite of my burger, I saw it. A couple. A couple that definitely should have been wearing more layers of clothing. Like I said, I love fat people. They're just as human as the next person. But when I'm eating and your hairy stomach flab is hanging out of your shirt, I want to pounce on you and rip your heart out. Girls, a tip. If you have a happy trail, shave it. Wax it. Laser it off. Like the restaurant Happy's, a happy trail on a girl will make men very, very sad. I'm trying to help you.

You may be wondering what makes me think I can say all of this stuff. "Why does he think he's sooo attractive?" Well, you can never base your attactiveness off of the looks of yourself. You base it off of the attractiveness of the people you have hooked up with in the past. And I've never gone below a 7.5, THEREFORE you need to listen to me. Take the women up there for example. I'm sure they are wonderful people. And yes, they are overweight. That's fine. My question is WHY IS THE WOMAN ON THE LEFT GRABBING THE STOMACH OF THE OTHER WOMAN? Soooo inappropriate. Don't be them. Also, I don't think it's inappropriate to use the word 'fat' when referring to fat people. There is a woman I work with who weighs at least 300 lbs. and she called herself fat today. So take it up with her.

I think that's all for today. Take my advice. If you think you're hot, don't go off of that. Post a pic on the internet and let other people decide for you.